


Time ticks on

by protaganope



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton needs a hug, Gen, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, I’m tired, could be viewed as platonic if you want, thats the entire point of this fic, this fic is entirely self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protaganope/pseuds/protaganope
Summary: This... He hadn’t felt this in a long time.(Local gremlin finally gets a hug and is immediately stupefied.)





	Time ticks on

**Author's Note:**

> Eliza is best Wife

Before Alexander could fully grasp the situation, Eliza’s arms were open and reaching. He found himself holding his breath as she closed the gap, warm, skin soft to his touch as his fingertips happened to skim the pale warmth of her arms. Standing there, suddenly stupid, all coherent thought melted down the drain as his brain sank its claws into the sensation.

A hug.

He hadn’t had this in a very long time.

Then, of course, the clock caught up, and she was leaning back. No more than a beat could have passed, and it had sewn itself neatly into a pocket of irreplaceable time, but he was so very cold, now. She had already moved on, busying with something at the fringes of his perceptions.

Something so basic had reduced him to silence, struck him dumb. And he would feel embarrassment flare, if he could, but he found himself suddenly unable to feel anything at all. Face blank, he staggered a little, and she was so far away, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she had just synthesised.

Clearing his throat, she paused at the sound, and he began speaking, off-kilter and feverish, a quiet, mumbling nonsense that didn’t actually say anything at all. A litany of half hung phrases that held no true tale to share.

She quieted him, making that careful shushing sound she always took to, that one he knew well from watching her soothe the children if they happened to be upset, and regarded him with something rather foreign. It was not unlike softness, but also held something undeniably mournful. And that was all warning he had before she was striding away, reminding him of his own duties.

You have things to do, his brain chided, working again.


End file.
